


heavy metal broke my heart

by sungyeowl



Category: The Maze Runner (2014), The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, i just like fall out boy, minho and newt are mischievous, the title doesn't really have anything to do with the fic, there's a sequel to this fic now!, thomas gally and alby are besties, various things happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 11:26:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3567926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungyeowl/pseuds/sungyeowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><br/>“Minho Newt’s boyfriend,” Minho says, eyebrows wandering farther up his forehead. “Newt didn’t tell ya?”<br/>“Tell ‘im what?” inquiries a voice from behind Thomas’ back and the boy startles, losing his balance and jumping up. A split second later there are hands on Thomas’ waist, steadying him and pushing him inside the flat as Newt squeezes his way in behind him.</p><p> </p><p>(I keep walking in on you making out with my roommate and I’m uncomfortably into both of you au; 2nd part <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3634251">here</a> ^^ )</p>
            </blockquote>





	heavy metal broke my heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellobutterflyrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellobutterflyrose/gifts).



> so here it is! a prompt for the lovely [hellobutterflyrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hellobutterflyrose/pseuds/hellobutterflyrose) : D  
> it's kinda crazily long, i'm sorry???? it sort of wrote itself, i don't even know  
> the sequel is[HERE](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3634251)

Thomas starts planning to move out of his campus dormitory room as soon as he learns that the guy he was assigned to room with is a total dickhead. It’s easier said than done, though, so he lives through the first semester of his fourth year, gritting his teeth and trying to ignore the mess, the unexpected guests and his things being – ‘ _borrowed_ ’ without his consent.

It’s only when he finds a used condom on _his_ bed that Thomas decides that he’s had enough.

Finding an apartment that Thomas can afford to rent and that’s not on the freaking campus is not an easy task . There are times when he feels like ripping his hair out in frustration after visiting yet another flat – one that either looks nice but turns out to be too expensive, or the other way around.

 Thomas tries not to lose his hope and keeps searching, even forcing his friend, Alby, to help him; and it’s tiring and wearisome, but eventually all of their efforts pay off.

*

And that’s how Thomas finds himself in front of a small block of flats, back aching under the weight of his backpack and car packed with four boxes full of his stuff.

The outside looks a little dodgy (as Alby provided helpfully when they first went to see it), the building being probably twice as old as Thomas, but there’s no holes in the roof and the heating works, and that’s what counts.

Thomas takes one box with himself and enters the house. He makes his way up the rickety stairs and as he feels the first drop of sweat trickling down his neck he wishes for a moment there was a lift, like in the dormitory he lived in before, but shakes his head right after, deciding to drop the complaining. It’s only the third floor he needs to reach, and god knows climbing up those few flights of stairs will be worth the effort.

Once Thomas is on the right floor and stops before the right door, he’s not sure whether to knock or enter – he’s got the key and he signed all needed papers, and even paid the first rent, but he’d  rather not make a bad first – second, actually – impression. So he presses the doorbell and waits until his new roommate opens the door and invites him in (he hopes).

“Hi!” the door flings open momentarily and there he is – Thomas’ new roommate, Newt, standing there, smiling broadly (and what is it if not relief washing over Thomas now?) as he works the box out of Thomas’ hands. “Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Thomas murmurs, a bit sheepishly, and enters, glad that he got rid of the box – his hands began to shake.

“Ya shoud’ve called, mate,” Newt reprimands good-naturedly as he sets the box on the coffee table in the living area and turns back to Thomas, still smiling. “Woulda help you up those monstrous stairs.”

“Oh, that’s fine, really,” Thomas answers and he can’t help a smile that blossoms on his face in response to the blonde’s one, and why was he even worried? The guy was nice and friendly when they first met, showing Thomas the apartment – with its flaws, at that - and telling him about the owner and the actual wage he would have to pay for the bills (the lack of sugar-coating and the reasonable price, and a seemingly cute roommate, was all Thomas needed to decide right on spot). “I’ll manage.”

“Don’t lie to me, Tommy,” Newt chuckles – _chuckles_ at Thomas’ words, and if it weren’t for the backpack full of fragile stuff on his back, Thomas would probably melt to the floor because of how  adorable the other man sounds. And because of the nickname, too, probably. “I’ll help ya nice and quick, and then we’ll grab a beer to celebrate your moving in, how does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, actually,”  Thomas replies, foregoing eloquence and smiling at Newt once again. The guy is nice, cheery and attractive, and that’s pretty damn fine, Thomas muses as he slips the backpack down his shoulders to the floor. The apartment isn’t that modern, but it’s clean and cosy; there’s a living room joint with a kitchen, a bathroom with a bathtub, and even if Thomas wasn’t sure about sharing a room with Newt – a bedroom, with two beds and two desks and two wardrobes, just like in a dorm room (which was his biggest concern; he couldn’t find a single room for himself he could afford, though) – at first, it’s still _a flat_ for only the two of them. No shared kitchens or bathrooms for the whole floor, no wild parties going on behind thin walls, no weird people who lost their way and confused the rooms. No stuff Thomas doesn’t like.

 _But a cute flatmate_ , Thomas thinks happily as they venture to his car for the rest of his things. One that seems conciliatory and helpful, and one that seems to have clicked with him. One that Thomas already considers asking out on a date after they’ve gotten to know each other better.

*

Thomas learns the hard way that asking Newt out is not an option a week later. He comes back from an evening lecture, knackered and a little annoyed after the whole day at uni, only to find himself in a wrong apartment.

Or so Thomas thinks at first, because there’s a shirtless guy that’s definitely _not_ Newt, standing by the stove. Thomas panics for a moment, certain that he counted the floors wrong and went too high or too low, into a wrong apartment, until he notices that they guy is using their frying pan – the red one Thomas brought with himself.

A strangled, surprised noise leaves his throat before Thomas can stop it and the shirtless guy turns around, apparently noticing him only now.

“Oh,” he says, brows rising high over his slanted eyes. “Ya must be Tommy. Nice to meet you.”

He sounds cheerful and he smiles widely as he reaches behind himself to stir whatever-that-is in the pan, but Thomas has never met a random Asian stranger without a shirt in his apartment, so he doesn’t really know what to do.

“And you are…?” he manages to squeeze out without sounding too terrified.

“Minho,” the man offers him yet another smile, seemingly not fazed at all that he’s intruding Thomas’ apartment. Half-naked.

“Minho who?” the urge to hide his face in his palm in order not to ogle the Minho guy’s muscled chest is enormous, but Thomas wins and instead stares at the man’s face. Which, perhaps, is not very wise, considering how good-looking he is. But for now Thomas tries to focus on the fact that there’s a fucking stranger in his flat, and that’s pretty weird, whether said stranger is handsome or not.

“Minho Newt’s boyfriend,” Minho says, eyebrows wandering farther up his forehead. “Newt didn’t tell ya?”

“Tell ‘im what?” inquiries a voice from behind Thomas’ back and the boy startles, losing his balance and jumping up. A split second later there are hands on Thomas’ waist, steadying him and pushing him inside the flat as Newt squeezes his way in behind him.

“What didn’t I tell Tommy?” Newt repeats, walking over to the counter and dropping a bag of what appears to be groceries on it. “Here’s your onions, by the way.”

“That I’m your boyfriend,” Minho says distractedly, diverting his attention to the bag which he starts unpacking.

Thomas is very confused.

“Oh,” Newt blushes a little as realization dawns on him. He turns over to Thomas and smiles at him apologetically, scratching  the back of his head. “Must’ve slipped my mind. Tommy, that’s Minho, my boyfriend. He popped in uninvited,” Newt glares at Minho at that, who only smirks and shrugs his very bare shoulders. “After his stupid jogging to take a shower. If ya were wondering why he’s not wearing a shirt.”

“Well, that explains it,” Thomas mumbles under his nose and finally finds strength to take his jacket off and step farther inside the flat. Boyfriends. Just his luck.

“Yeah. Thought I would be back before you. Sorry ‘bout the confusion, mate,” Newt follows him to the couch and he sounds so genuine that it almost covers a bubble of disappointment that appeared in the pit of Thomas’ stomach. Almost.

“I must have scared you, hm?” Minho cackles from where he’s cooking in the kitchen area, then leans away from the counter to look at the two seated on the couch. “But ya’ll eat with us, right? I’m makin’ curry.”

For a moment Thomas just wants to go to the bedroom to wallow in self-pity, but the food actually smells pretty delicious, Newt’s looking at him with an expectant smile and Minho – well, Minho’s shirtless. Thomas might not be in the game anymore, but he can at least look, right? And not only at Newt, at that.

“Yeah, I’ll eat with you.”

“Perfect.”

*

And so Thomas is not in the game, but as weeks pass by it proves to be difficult also. He’s not one to fall for people easily, and even if he’s infatuated with someone, once he knows he doesn’t stand a chance he gets over them easily; but Newt is an all-time sweetheart that smiles kindly even if he’s being sarcastic, he waits for Thomas so they can eat together and he’s very helpful and pretty fucking amazing to live with. What’s worse is that Thomas gets along with Minho okay, too, since he’s often a guest in their apartment (and Newt always asks if Minho can come over, which is so considerate and sweet of him that Thomas just wants to scream into his hands), and that’s not very freaking helpful at all, them being friends also. Because Minho, even if a little obnoxious, is probably as cute as Newt, and Thomas doesn’t know what to do with his life because those two are obviously very much in love with each other.

*

“Are you even planning on going home tonight?”

The amount of effort Thomas puts into turning his face away from the backrest on the couch he’s sprawled across is incredible; but he does it and glares at Alby, who’s sitting on an armchair across from him.

“What if I wasn’t?” Thomas whines quietly, otherwise not moving an inch.

“Gally’ll be pissed you’re clogging our couch again,” Alby informs, not unkindly.

“He loves me anyway,” Thomas shrugs – as far as he can shrug while lying down on his stomach – but then sighs and sits up slowly. Then sighs again.

“Will you stop that?”

“I can’t go back home, Alby. Alby…”

“We’ve been over this a thousand times already, Thomas,” Alby complains but averts his eyes from the tv to look at him with a frown. “You cannot stay here forever.”

“But I-“

“Yes, I know, you can’t go back because of your hot roommate. And his hot boyfriend. I though you said Newt would be out till late today, though?”

“He will, but what if Minho is there?” Thomas pouts – actually fucking pouts, which is unthinkable in itself, even without his whiny (pathetic) tone. He can’t really help himself not to complain – life has been hard on him recently, okay, _testing_. “I don’t want that.”

“The problem is, you want that too much, actually,” Alby says, not at all moved by Thomas’ display of misery.

“Yeah, well, I don’t want to crush on them, okay? And it’s going there, they’re just so-”

“Just get out of here, will you, Tom?”

*

Thomas grumbles and complains to himself all the way to Newt’s and his apartment, so it’s a good thing he’s in his car alone and not public transportation with people to give him weird looks.

He’s not exactly avoiding Newt – and Minho, in that matter – but he decided to spend some more time away from home when he starts feeling particularly amorous. Which happens rarely, but still happens, and that’s not a good thing.

He’ll just throw himself to bed and pretend he’s asleep when Newt comes back, Thomas muses as he enters the apartment and –

–        and the sight that greets him are Newt and Minho.

Newt and Minho, who are _very_ busy with each other, really; Minho’s sitting on the counter and Newt’s standing between his legs and they’re holding each other and _kissing_. It’s passionate and intimate and when Minho makes a soft noise, one that sounds awfully similar to a moan, Thomas’ breathing hitches loudly, startling the two.

There’s a lot of fumbling and Thomas thinks he can hear Newt cursing at some point as they try to get away from each other and make themselves presentable while Thomas is standing rooted to his spot, not able to move.

Minho’s cheeks are flushed bright red and Newt laughs nervously when they are both _standing_.

Thomas tries not to look at the bulge at the front of Minho’s pants.

“I am so sorry,” he says, voice strained, eyes darting between the embarrassed two. “I didn’t know you-“

“It’s okay, mate,” Newt interrupts him quickly, and it’s his turn to blush now. And they – they are just standing, glancing over at Thomas sheepishly, shy and dishevelled and so, so… Thomas doesn’t dare to finish the thought, for his own safety. “We just- kinda had a change of plans and I didn’t really manage to ask ya if Minho could come over, and…”

“Yeah, no, ‘f course, I get it,” Thomas nods vigorously, eyes fixing to the floor now as the thoughts of   _why_ Newt didn’t manage to text him invade his mind stubbornly (though, he supposes he’ll have force it into Newt’s head that he doesn’t have to ask for permission every time, damn it). And he’d rather not think about his super hot friends making out heavily with each other right after they stopped doing so. “I’ll just- I’ll go to bed.  Or I can stay in the living room if you two-”

“No!” both Minho and Newt scream at him simultaneously, childishly flushed.

“I was gonna go home either way,” Minho lies all but smoothly, leans over to press a quick goodbye kiss to Newt’s temple and claps Thomas on the shoulder as he passes him on his way to the door. “See ya.”

There’s awkward silence when Minho’s gone as if Thomas walked in on them burying a dead body, not making out; which is silly, but he can’t really fight the shyness that seems to have crept over him.

“So, ugh,” Newt voices out dumbly after some time of intense avoiding-eye-contact. “You real tired or could we maybe play somethin’?”

Thomas hesitates but agrees, eventually, and just hopes that Newt’s boner dies before he gets back to the living room with his laptop.

*

“I swear they’re trying to drive me crazy,” Thomas says, bringing the plastic cup (filled with something of Gally’s recipe, he’d rather not ask what exactly) to his mouth and taking a few healthy gulps. The music is pounding around him and thank god he knows most of the people that bump or brush against him once in a while because of the little space. He wouldn’t be able to deal with strangers invading his personal space now. “Before the academic year ends I’ll be completely out of my fucking mind, and Minho’s not even living with us.”

“So they’re doing it purposefully, you think?” Gally asks, grabbing at Thomas’ elbow and pulling him to the side, so he’s out of the way from people who started dancing.

“Not really,” Thomas shrugs and follows the taller man to the kitchen, where they hope less people will be. “They’re not perfidious, you know. And I don’t think they’re even aware,” Thomas exhales, slowly and kind of agonizingly, as he hops up on the counter. Gally leans on it next to him, his arm a warm, comforting touch to Thomas’ own.

“Of your crush. On both of them,” Gally states matter-of-factly, and that’s probably the scariest thing about this.

“Yeah,” Thomas mumbles, because he gave up hope of not being attracted to his flatmate and his boyfriend some time ago. He’s got a major crush on both of them – and they’re friends now and he’s living with Newt, and Minho is in love with Newt, and Newt is in love with Minho, and Thomas feels as if he were lying to them. Which he’s not, technically, about anything, but the feeling’s strong enough to make him uncomfortable. Confessing isn’t an option, because there’s no way in hell he would risk spoiling their perfect relationship.

“Are you sure? You said-“

“I know what I said, okay?” Thomas snaps at his friend suddenly and regrets it as soon as a hurt look crosses Gally’s face.  Thomas is having this conversation with him yet again, forcing the poor guy to listen to his lamentations for the nth time –Thomas has no reason to be mad. “Sorry, I just. I don’t know anymore.”

And he doesn’t know, really. Not when Newt is being sweet all the time, not when Minho’s the flirty type even when Newt’s around. Newt cooks for him and helps him with his essays (being a literature major), Minho throws unrefined comments at him every now and then, or slaps his butt or whatever, but that’s just the way it goes. Thomas doesn’t think it means anything serious anymore. It has crossed his mind once or twice, for instance when he accidentally walked in on Minho and Newt kissing in the living room - and he could swear Minho saw him and continued for a few seconds staring Thomas dead in the eyes as his lips moved over Newt’s; but then they broke apart and apologized to him and it was normal again. And they’re not an affectionate couple, not really, so it’s always weird to see them doing more than holding hands or pecking one another as a means of greeting or saying goodbye. Thomas’ mind is a mess – one that intensifies when they’re watching a movie, the three of them, and he’s sitting in the middle and Newt falls asleep on his shoulder or Minho props his head on Thomas’ knees without asking. He’s a mess because it doesn’t mean anything, but it _could_ , especially to him, and if the circumstances were different, he would probably think at least one of them is interested in him. But they’re not, because Minho is a very forward person that wouldn’t beat around the bush, and Newt wouldn’t be the one to play with him like that. “It’s all fucked up,” Thomas grunts when Gally doesn’t say a thing and crumples the empty cup in his hand.

“Sure it is,” Gally agrees, voice level and gentle. “But maybe you should tell them. How you feel and stuff.”

“That’s not happening, they don’t deserve me butting in,” the answer is quick, well thought out and practiced as it leaves Thomas’ mouth. He won’t be risking that, and that’s settled. “I’ll manage. Jesus, why couldn’t I fall for you or something? That would be so much easier.”

“Yeah, you know how poorly that worked out for us,” Gally barks a short laugh and Thomas joins him as the memories of their horrendous attempt at dating back in high school that eventually made them not speak to one another for a month.

“We’d be golden together, though, no?” Thomas nudges Gally with his elbow and Gally nudges him back, still laughing quietly, which efficiently lifts Thomas’ spirits.

“Too bad we’re better off as friends. And now you’re stuck here, with your beloved roommates.”

“Don’t remind me,” Thomas grumbles and slaps a palm to his forehead, because that’s not how it was supposed to go. Gally and Alby threw a party and Thomas wasn’t peculiarly in a mood for one, but after Alby’s persuading he decided it was worth a shot to go – probably to get smashed – and forget about his stupid infatuation for at least some time. He should have predicted it wouldn’t go his way – Minho dropped by and saw him getting ready, then demanded Thomas takes them with him, since they met Alby and Gally a few times in those three months Thomas has been living with Newt. And who was he to say no, especially without a proper reason?

And so they had come together and as the time progressed and more and more alcohol was being consumed, all of them getting tipsy and Newt getting handsy at that, clinging to Minho and caressing his arm and kissing his shoulder – and Thomas just had to evacuate himself, and that’s how he ended up spewing his guts out to Gally (yet again).

So, yeah, the taking-mind-off-of-things didn’t completely go the way Thomas has planned. Actually, it kind of made things worse, if anything.

“C’mon,” Gally says at some point, long after he’s handed Thomas another cup, long after Thomas has emptied it. “Let’s go back to the living room and laugh at those who can’t dance.”

“Sounds fun,” Thomas smiles and follows.

*

It _is_ fun until Thomas spots Minho and Newt slow-dancing in a tender embrace. He has to leave the room, too intoxicated to care about Gally’s calls.

He’s overreacting and he’s well aware of that, but it’s really, really fucking difficult to stay away and be careless, especially when he’s not used to crushing on anyone.

It’s probably the alcohol speaking, but at this point, Thomas is not sure how much longer he’ll bear living with Newt and being friends with them, he thinks as he enters Gally’s room without a doubt, even if everyone present at the party was banned from entering the bedrooms.

The room is familiar and that calms him down instantly, so Thomas plops down on the bed, knowing that Gally won’t mind _him_ doing that (they’ve known each other for years – there’s barely anything they can do to offend each other anymore).

Thomas dozes off a little, allowing the alcohol to slowly leave his body; Gally checks on him some time later and Thomas promises he’ll be out soon, even though he doesn’t intend to get up too soon (and Gally knows that very well, but it’s still nice of him to ask, isn’t it?).

Thankfully and sort of by miracle his brain clears of any thoughts and Thomas finally stops with acting angsty and pathetic and just chills on the bed.

Until the door creaks and the sound is followed by a very familiar chuckle; two figures stumble inside and might Thomas be damned if those aren’t Minho and Newt.

He reaches out for the little lamp on the nightstand, then unceremoniously turns the light on.

“You’re not allowed here,” he says, perhaps a little too harshly. Minho stares at him, hand still on the doorknob; Newt’s plastered to his back, his mouth lazy on the back of Minho’s neck and his hand under the front of Minho’s shirt, resting on his stomach. They look perfect. Thomas wants to scream.

“Um, actually, we were lookin’ for ya’” Minho says, stepping farther inside and dragging Newt with himself.

“Sure you were,” Thomas replies, knitting his eyebrows together, but trying to keep his voce level. Getting mad at the two is unreasonable and uncalled for, even if they invaded Gally’s room without permission. “Now get out before Gally kicks your asses.”

“Ya’re mean, Tommy,” Newt drawls, pressing last two kisses to Minho’s nape and making his way over to the bed, wobbling only slightly.”How ya doin’, hm?” he asks, leaning over so much that Thomas has to sit up and steady him; Newt kind of just slumps against his side, _nestling_.

“Prolly better than you, buddy,” he replies quietly then glances at Minho, who just stands there. “How much did he drink?”

“Too much,” Minho tries to play it cool, but he’s visibly a little worried and cooing mentally at the same time at how Newt acts, and Thomas suspects he’s the fifth wheel, intruding on what meant to be a start of a make-out session. “That’s why we’re looking for ya. I think we should head home.”

The idea doesn’t seem all that bad, Thomas decides as he stands up and levers Newt, who leans on him almost completely under the weight of alcohol he must have drunk. “You’re staying the night, Min?”

“Yeah, gotta keep an eye of the two of you,” Minho replies. He walks over and grabs the other side of Newt who has gone kind of limp, humming to himself and apparently trusting them to take him home safely. Thomas allows himself a small smile, because if there’s anyone responsible right now to take care of the other two, it’s definitely him – not Minho, whose steps aren’t as steady as he probably thinks they are.

*

“Hey.”

Thomas stops in his way from the bathroom to Newt’s and his bedroom when he feels a fleeting touch on his forearm.

“What?” he asks, looking over at Minho, who sits on the couch where he’ll be sleeping, already under a duvet. The man reaches his hand over the backrest yet again, and places it on Thomas’ forearm, this time letting it rest there longer.

“You okay?” Minho asks quietly, not to wake Newt who’s already asleep in the other room. Thomas stifles a reflex to flinch back. “Ya seem kinda off, man. Everything alright?”

He’s sobered up and there’s a trace of concern in his dark eyes – Minho looks worried and worried _for Thomas_. A pang of guilt hits Thomas straight in the chest and he curses internally at himself for being mean to his friends – if only in his mind – when he’s important to them, one way or another. He’s the one being shitty, not them; if his mood swings continue like that he’ll probably have to tattoo it somewhere onto his skin as a reminder.

“I’m fine,” Thomas replies, smiling at Minho softly and patting his hand with his other one.

Minho doesn’t let go, though, just tightens the grip on his forearm for a moment.

“You sure?” he presses, eyes drilling into Thomas’. “You know I’m here for ya, yeah? Newt too. No matter what, good that?”

“Good that. Thanks, Minho,” and he is thankful, Thomas realizes with content. He is, without a trace of jealousy this time. Maybe he will manage to be their friend and stay sane.

“Anytime, man. Anything.”

“G’night,” Thomas pats the back of his hand one last time and Minho grins in response before letting go of him.

When Thomas falls asleep early in the morning, he feels a whole lot calmer.

*

It goes fine – the staying sane deal – for the time being. Thomas doesn’t let his feelings take control over his actions or over his mood; he distances himself from the pair – he isn’t avoiding them physically, not really, but he just tries not to cross the brick wall that he seems to have built in his head to dismiss dangerous emotions directed at his friends.

Sometimes it’s easy, sometimes it’s not, but at least Thomas is at peace with himself when he doesn’t feel unreasonably and stupidly envious of the relationship Newt and Minho have.

 He’s not always fair – when Newt has bronchitis during Minho’s exam session and Thomas is the only one to take care of him he does it perhaps a little too eagerly; he brings him food and medications, and pats Newt back a little too tenderly when his lungs act up. But it’s really, really difficult not to when Newt appears to be seeking the contact, a bit deliriously, and Thomas cannot bring himself to refuse.

Minho finds them like that on the third day of Newt’s illness – curled on Newt’s bed, with Newt slumped against Thomas’ chest and Thomas’ hand raking through his blonde hair lazily. If it weren’t for the fact that Newt’s asleep , Thomas would jump up to his feet and start making excuses as guilt overwhelms him – because it’s one thing to take care of your sick friend, and another one to cuddle with him if he’s taken.

But Minho just smiles at him, touches Newt’s forehead lightly and sits down on the other side of Thomas.

“Ya’re the best, Thomas,” Minho says next to Thomas’ ear as he reaches over and opens Newt’s laptop so the two of them can watch a movie as the blonde sleeps his sickness away.

(Whether the fact that Minho chose a horror movie is a good thing Thomas is not sure – it isn’t, probably – but he decides not to dwell on it as he finds an excuse to hide his face in Minho’s shoulder. Even if he’s not scared at all.)

 

And that’s how it goes, with Thomas having his better (when he thinks being friends is enough) and weaker moments (when he feels like he should move out right away because his world is crumbling down around him). His tactic to run away when Newt and Minho are getting a little too touchy-feely isn’t the smartest – especially when he feels like he’d rather stay and just look at them if he can’t participate himself – but it works, even if it’s a little bit exhausting.

So when Alby suggest they should go back to working out sometime in May Thomas is grateful he feels like he could hug his friend forever. There’s nothing better than a serious workout, and that’s the thing that always helps him take his mind off of things.

It’s all nice and dandy until Minho notices Thomas’ jogging sessions and greases his way inside, persuading Thomas it’s more fun to exercise with two people than with one. And Thomas shouldn’t be surprised, because Minho is probably twice as athletic as he, of course he’d take a chance to work out with him and Alby.

It would be fun if Thomas weren’t distracted by Minho’s fit form next to him when they do laps around the park. Or by the sheen of sweat on his skin when they’re finished. Or by the way his muscles flex under his tanned skin when Alby takes them to a gym.

Thomas is doomed, and he only confirms his belief about his bottomless misery when Newt goes to the gym with them once and Minho is so proud that the blonde managed to exercise without straining his bad leg too much that Thomas catches them kissing passionately and whispering tender words in between in the locker room when he’s finished with his shower.

It’s so bad that Thomas goes to a pub alone and drinks whiskey until he’s brave enough to talk to a girl that has been glancing at him for the whole evening.

*

“So what you’re saying is,” Gally’s sceptic, very sceptic when Thomas tells him his plan. “You got yourself a date. With someone other than Minho or Newt.”

“Yep,” Thomas nods affirmatively, then steals Gally’s mug and downs the rest of his coffee. Gally frowns.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Thomas.”

“Why not?” Thomas frowns back. He’s not exactly excited, but the girl was nice and apparently interested in him. He could give it a shot. “It’s just a date. If it works out – good for me. If not, well. I’ll move out.”

“Why don’t you just tell them?” pushing his cake over to Thomas (who digs into it right away), Gally sighs deeply, forehead creasing with worry. “They care for you.”

“Not like that,” Thomas says after he’s swallowed half of the cake. “I just can’t do it anymore, Galls. She’s nice, it’ll be like the last test, right?”

“Test? Thomas, I just-“

“No, listen. If I fall for her, I’ll be able to live with Newt peacefully, right? If not, then that’ll be the last sign to move out and stop lying to him and Minho. In a way,” Thomas explains. And it sounds childish and stupid, but that’s the only reasonable solution he can think of. He doesn’t want the understatements lingering between him and his friends, not anymore.

“I just think they deserve to know, mate,” Gally shakes his head but drops his resolve, for which Thomas smiles at him gratefully. “They’re your friends.”

“And they still will be, if I don’t mess up,” Thomas assures, then gathers his things and pushes the money for his order into Gally’s hand. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I’ve got a date in half an hour.”

*

The date is a disaster and Thomas would be devastated if it weren’t for the girl he met up with being so sweet. She was nice, funny and beautiful, easy to talk to and clever. Thomas could totally see himself hooking up with her.

If it weren’t for his stupid two crushes.

Thomas was relaxed and entertained, but also very well aware they couldn’t be more than friends. The thought was lurking in the back of his mind for the whole time; and he didn’t need to feel as if he weren’t fair with not only Newt and Minho, but also with this girl.

“Teresa,” he said eventually, tightening his fists under the table. “I just. I want you to, um, know – I don’t think we could be more than friends. I’m sorry.”

He waited, anxiously, for an invective or for her to storm out of the café, but Teresa exhaled only, a bright smile splitting her face.

“Thank god you think so too,” she said, laughing quietly. “I didn’t know how to break this to you, you’re just so sweet. So, friends?”

“Friends,” Thomas smiled back and shook the hand she offered to him.

They made plans to meet up next week – as friends only, and said their goodbyes not long after.

So it hasn’t worked out, but at least he made a new friend (with a great wit at that), Thomas tries to tell himself as he makes his way back to their apartment. He’ll have to start searching for a new place tomorrow, but at least he’s made another friend. That should feel okay.

It doesn’t.

Thomas dreads the moment he has to tell Newt, and then Minho, that he plans to move out. It would be better if he could tell them an actual reason why he cannot live with Newt anymore, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to do that. And lying isn’t an option. He will just have to leave without excusing himself.

The confidence that he will be able to move out without causing too much drama, or that moving out in the first place is even a good decision is nonexistent, even more so after his talk with Gally, but it will have to be done. Thomas’ mind is set when he enters their apartment building, though he supposes he’ll postpone dropping the news to his friend until he finds a place to live in.

And it’s most definitely unfair, but Thomas hasn’t been truthful with Newt and Minho either way since he realised he wished they were more, so it doesn’t seem that bad in comparison (he tries to convince himself).

Thomas is almost calm when he climbs up the stairs, but then he hears shouting and soon enough a very enraged Newt runs down past him, not stopping. Startled, Thomas turns around and calls after him, but the blonde is already gone.

His heart is pounding wildly with worry as Thomas hesitates what to do, but eventually runs up the rest of the way to their apartment, sure that he will find Minho there - hopefully with some answers.

“What’s going on?” he asks as soon as he steps inside. Minho is sitting on the couch, pale and with a frown knotting his eyebrows together. There are empty Chinese takeout boxes on the coffee table, along with Newt’s laptop. To say that Thomas is confused is an understatement of the year.

“Where have you been?” Minho asks, not bothering to reply. His voice is devoid of emotion, and that’s probably what has Thomas crossing the room in two seconds and sitting down next to his friend.

“On a date, I told Newt,” Thomas says distractedly, peering into Minho’s face, searching for signs of – anything, really. The man’s frown deepens as he stares back at Thomas and mumbles, “Yeah, he told me.”

“I saw him running out, what happened?” Thomas urges, poking Minho in the arm. He’s worried, very much so – because even if Minho and Newt bicker all the time, he has never seen them fighting. Never. What must have happened between them scares him too much than it should.

“We had a fight,” Mino shrugs, then turns his head away and points his eyes to the coffee table.

“What happened?” Thomas repeats insistently, voice turning hard.

“Newt’s a dumb pansy, that’s what happened,” Minho grumbles only, which earns him a smack to the back of the head from Thomas.

“What did you do?” Thomas sighs as Minho winces. He wills his hand to stay at his side and not spring up to rub at Minho’s head comfortingly. He doesn’t know what happened yet, and that’s the first matter that needs to be solved now.

“Why do ya think _I_ did something, huh?”

Thomas ignores the indignant tone and nudges Minho with his shoulder. “Because he stormed out, not you. So?”

“We had a fight,” Minho starts slowly, voice level as he turns over to look at Thomas. He’s still pale and weirdly drained – the concern Thomas’s feeling increases. “Because he’s a coward.”

“Minho, jesus, to the point, okay?”

“He didn’t want me to tell you,” Minho speaks, unusually sombre. His eyes are sliding over Thomas face, and it’s actually pretty fucking unnerving. If Thomas weren’t so settled on solving the matter, he would probably run away.

It’s awful because Minho pauses and stares at Thomas in what seems to be wonder; the minutes drag until Thomas speaks up.

“Tell me what?” his sounds weak, even though he doesn’t know what to expect.

“That I’m in love with you,” Minho says simply.

Thomas’ world spins abruptly as his brain processes his friends’ words. He’s not sure what he’s feeling – there’s a bit of joy and a whole lot of shock, but everything is shadowed by a huge wave of dread that seems to have swarmed over him.

“Damn it, Minho,” he mumbles as he bends down and hides his face in his hands. “Damn it.”

How he managed to fuck up without doing anything is beyond him. Thomas’ breathing is wavering when he tries to gather his thoughts and plan something. _Anything_ , that could work and set things right now.

“Damn it, fuck,” he repeats once again, not lifting his head up. He’s not ready to face Minho now. “How could you do that, Minho? He loves you, for fuck’s sake, how did you think he would react? Since when have you gotten so stupid?”

“No-“

“Shut up,” all of sudden, Thomas exclaims and straightens up, then looks Minho dead in the eyes. “You go and apologize and we forget it ever happened, okay?”

“Thomas-“

“Minho, dammit. Just do it,” Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose, cutting the conversation. “Just do it. Please.”

He closes his eyes and doesn’t say anything more, trying to pressure Minho to do what he said with just his attitude.

There’s a moment of silence before Thomas hears shuffling as Minho stands up.

Which he doesn’t, actually, because soon enough Thomas feels a strong arm encircling his shoulders as Minho pulls him closer.

And Thomas can’t pull away, even though he tries and fights with himself and screams at himself internally – he can’t and hates himself even more when he automatically leans into the touch. And it’s wrong and not right, because Newt is somewhere out there, probably anguished and who knows if not even crying?

Yet Thomas sits here, letting Newt’s boyfriend hug him, because he’s weak and horrible and he carves.

“Thomas,” Minho’s breath is hot against his temple as the man presses closer to Thomas, his mouth ghosting against his skin. Thomas exhales a shaky breath, trying to muster courage and strength to push him away. “He likes you, too.”

The shock and the question is on the tip of Thomas’ tongue as he jerks up, eyes widening in their search for Minho’s, but before he has a chance to ask, a voice interrupts him.

“Damn right I bloody do.”

Newt, who must have just come back, strides towards them quickly and drops to his knees in front of the couch, eyes boring into Thomas’.

Who’s surprised and confused and very much shaken, Minho’s arms weighing on him and Newt’s glare hypnotizing.

“What?” he croaks out only because even that requires a lot of fucking effort from him right now.

“I didn’t want him to tell ya,” Newt says, eyes flicking to Minho for a brief moment, then settling back again on Thomas. His words are quiet and soft – he’s worried, if not scared, Thomas notices, mind spinning. “Didn’t know how ya’d react. But it’s done now, so to hell with it.”

Minho hums an agreement and places a kiss to Thomas’ temple, as if confirming Newt’s words.

“What the fuck,” Thomas says only as he pulls away lightly, leaning into the couch and glancing between the two. Minho’s smiling shyly while Newt looks at him, obviously expecting an answer. Any kind of an answer, apparently. “What the actual fuck, guys?”

“I’m sure we were pretty obvious?” Minho says, raising his brows questioningly. Newt nods. Thomas wants to punch them both.

“How the fuck were you obvious?” he snorts, because anger is the only emotion that surfaces visibly enough to play on it.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Newt sneers. “Do ya bloody cuddle on a bed with Alby and Gally?”

Thomas doesn’t have a remark to that. Damn it.

“Yeah, thought so.”

“Couldn’t you just tell me? For god’s sake.”

“That’s a little hypocritical coming from you, no?” Newt inquiries, but his voice is laced with mirth underneath.

“What do you mean?” Thomas tries not to flush red, but fails, heat coming up to his face.

“You like us back.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, well. But you’ll let me do this, won’t you?” Minho chuckles and dips his head. Then kisses Thomas full on the mouth before he has a chance to ask, his hand tightening its grip on Thomas’ shoulder. And damn if Thomas doesn’t let him.

“Fuck you both,” Thomas murmurs when Minho pulls away, only to reveal Newt who grins at them in the most shit-eating manner ever. He can’t help but smile back, though, confusion slowly slipping away from his body.

“We’ll get ‘round to it later, I’m sure,” Minho laughs and Thomas punches him in the stomach – hard – but is soon distracted by Newt, who hoists himself up on the couch to sit on the other side of him.

The blonde is smiling as he also slips his arm around Thomas, placing it on his waist. Thomas is warm and feels a bit crushed, but in the most pleasant way.

Minho pulls them closer and there’s a moment when they adjust their positions until they are all comfortable. Thomas doesn’t still fully understand what’s going on when Minho starts the movie he was watching with Newt earlier; but Newt promises him they’ll talk about it properly later as he leans in and presses a kiss on Thomas’ cheek. Minho chuckles and ruffles his hair before they settle into a comfortable silence which Thomas doesn’t intend to interrupt for now.

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!  
> so i wrote a continuation, and you can find it [HERE!](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3634251) ^^


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